Crush
by bast2
Summary: M.E's off hour exam. Serena's got a secret
1. Chapter 1

This is the first installment of my very first fan fiction story--so   
  
please--be kind.  
  
Elizabeth Rogers woke with a pain in her chest. This was followed by   
  
the awareness that a million tiny jackhammers were drilling away at   
  
her brain. "Oh, God," she thought, "I'm having a heart attack, or a   
  
stroke, or both." She slowly opened her eyes to see...a large white   
  
Persian cat laying on her chest. The cat blinked, golden eyes the   
  
soul of self posession, then rose, stretched, and jumped off the bed.  
  
Rogers breathed a little easier. Now if only the hammering would   
  
stop. She slowly turned her head to the right. On an ocassional   
  
table near the bed was an empty bottle of scotch and two   
  
glasses. "Well, that explains the headache. But where the hell am   
  
I?"  
  
She looked around the pristine bedroom: white walls, white shag   
  
carpet thick enough to sink in ankle deep, white lamps, white   
  
dresser. Even the comforter was virgin snow. Virgin snow...virgin   
  
snow...oh, shit. Oh, shit, oh, shit!  
  
With the greatest feeling of trepidation she could recall in her   
  
entire life she turned to look at the other side of the bed.Blonde   
  
hair spilled across an eggshell pillowcase. Steady, even breathing   
  
marked the rise and fall of the sheet. One graceful hand hung limply   
  
from the matress edge.   
  
OH, SHIT!  
  
Rogers sat up abruptly, pulling a muscle in her back. Ignoring the   
  
pain, she leaped from the bed to land squarely on the tail of the   
  
Persian, who began to wail piteously. The form under the covers moved.  
  
"Fluffles...what..."?  
  
The ADA looked at the M.E. The M.E. looked at the ADA. Fluffles   
  
looked at his tail and yowled.  
  
"Elizabeth."  
  
"Serena."  
  
"Ah...good morning." Pause. "Sleep well?"  
  
"I must have. I don't remember a damn thing."  
  
Relief spread over the face of the ADA. "Let me put on some coffee." 


	2. Chapter 2

After handing Rogers a robe (smooth, white, sexy silk) and donning   
  
one herself, Serena headed for the kitchen. "There's an extra   
  
toothbrush in the bathroom cabinet," she called over her shoulder.  
  
Rogers found there was indeed an extra toothbrush--in fact there were   
  
four--still in their packages and lined up like soldiers. Either   
  
this girl was expecting relatives, or hoping to get REAL lucky. All   
  
the handles were white.  
  
As Rogers brushed her teeth, she tried to recall the events of the   
  
previous day. She remembered that late in the afternoon Serena had   
  
come to the morgue with a question about a vic. They reviewed his X-  
  
rays and Rogers had tried to explain to the girl that the impact of   
  
the blunt instrument could not have possibly been delivered by the   
  
driver sitting next to the vic--it had to have come from someone   
  
sitting behind him. "Look, you feel this place here?" she asked   
  
touching the girl lightly behind her ear. Serena nodded. "The   
  
driver would have had to put his arm completely around the vic's neck   
  
to make the strike." She put her arm around Serena's neck to   
  
demonstrate. "Impossible."  
  
Serena had blushed, thanked her, and quickly left the room. Rogers   
  
had thought at the time that the blush had something to do with the   
  
intricacies of the case, and as for rushing from the room--well, most   
  
people who didn't work in the morgue left it pretty quickly when they   
  
finished their business.   
  
That's why when she found Serena waiting for her after work she   
  
hadn't been suspicious. And when she suggested they go for a drink,   
  
Rogers thought, "Well, hell, why not? I've got no husband waiting at   
  
home, and it IS the weekend." Actually, Rogers felt a little sorry   
  
for the girl. She'd been working as ADA for two years, and was damn   
  
good at her job, but she had a problem when it came to people. The   
  
cops disliked her, her co-workers disliked her, even the cleaning   
  
crew disliked her--and yet no one could give you a good reason why.   
  
Virgin snow, they called her. Unmarked and cold. Her propensity for   
  
all shades of white just reinforced the label.  
  
A strange sound intruded into Rogers reverie--a choking, gasping   
  
sound. Looking down she saw Fluffles, evidently convulsing and   
  
fighting for breath. God, what should she do? She was NOT going to   
  
give that cat mouth to mouth. She tried patting it on the back but   
  
it seemed to make matters worse.  
  
"Serena? Serena!?"  
  
Serena came running in from the hallway. "What is it? What's wrong?"  
  
Rogers pointed to the cat. "Your cat. It's convulsing or   
  
something. Epilepsy?"  
  
Serena's features relaxed. "No. Hairball."  
  
"Hairball?"  
  
"Yeah. You don't know much about cats, do you?"  
  
"Well, no. I've always been a dog person. Will he be...ok?"  
  
"Oh, sure. He'll just sic up and then be fine." Serena smiled at   
  
her--a really dazzling smile--then touched her arm. "He really likes   
  
you. I can tell. And by the way so do I."  
  
With that departing shot Serena went back to her domestic duties,   
  
leaving Rogers to stare at a mound of puke on the bathroom floor. 


End file.
